Friends and Neighbours
by lenc
Summary: New Year's Eve at the Branaughs' house.


**Title: **Friends and Neighbours

**Fandom: **Young Dracula

**Characters: **The Count, Vlad, Ingrid, Robin, Chloe, Ian, Paul, Elizabeth, Graham

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **New Year's Eve at the Branaughs' house.

**Friends and Neighbours**

Vlad crept closer to the TV, eyes wide with wonder, reflecting the red, green, pink of New Year's Eve fireworks. He'd never seen them before. Transylvania did _not _know what it was missing.

Another whined and exploded, sending him rocking on his heels. A swift kick from Ingrid had much the same effect. He glared at her. "Look, if you'd just give it a chance - "

She gave him the 'loser' sign. "If I want to see ugly lights going on and off at random intervals, breather-boy, I can go stand under a traffic light."

"I bet you wish he'd go and _play _in the traffic, sometimes," Robin ventured, which was greeted by icy scowls from both Draculas. "Or, you know, not..."

"But what is it all _for?"_ the Count was demanding rather helplessly of Elizabeth Branaugh. There wasn't much else he could do - given that she'd all but trapped him beside her on the green sofa. Slime-green. Vlad could just see his father wondering whether the addition of a couple pints of real slime might be an improvement. Pity they'd left Renfield at home.

"For?" she answered, shaking her head in amusement. "It's to celebrate the end of an old year, of course, and the beginning of a new one. Fresh starts all around, and - "

"Don't get her started on New Year's Resolutions."

"_Thank _you, Robin."

"I still don't understand quite why you'd wish to 'celebrate' by firing lightsout of those cannons," the Count said gloomily, aiming a languid finger at the television. "I mean, if you're so insistent on a fresh start, why not go the whole way and cleanse the cannons with some fresh peasants instead?"

_"Dad!_" Vlad hissed. Ingrid smirked. "'Cause it's what people _do_."

"Exactly! - I sincerely hope my son and heir is not starting to classify himself as a _person_, Vladimir..."

"As a what, Mr Count?" Graham asked, coming in with a tray of drinks.

Vlad sank his head in despair. Even pink champagne wasn't going to improve his family.

"Look!" Elizabeth announced brightly. "You're missing it, sillies." And the TV chanting hit - one. 

"Happy New Year!"

"May we all have a vision now and then - of a world, where every neighbouris a friend..."

"It'll be an _really_ happyone if Dad doesn't sing Abba."

"Again."

"Robin, Chloe, I don't want to have to tell you..."

"Yes, Mam."

Elizabeth handed round some party poppers. She passed one to Ingrid, who disposed of it in the goldfish bowl. She threw one playfully at the Count, who watched, baffled, as it slid down his silky waistcoat and between the sofa-cushions. "What is this?" He addressed Robin this time.

Robin named the offending article. "If you're lucky, you could even lose an eye with it..."

"God, you are _so_ gullible," Ingrid told her younger brother as he carefully inched away like the popper was full of gunpowder. Which, in all fairness, it kind of was.

"_I _was hoping he was telling the truth," the Count sighed, visibly miffed.

Vlad watched Ian wait until Paul placed his water-glass back on the table. He watched his lips move in a silent countdown - _three, two, one _(it was four and five Ian had trouble with) - and winced as he neatly pulled the popper into the drink.

Instant chaos! The Count yelped like a crocodile having a tooth pulled. The glass of red wine (topped up with blood from his hip-flask, _that'd _never come out of the cushions) in his hand jumped upwards and down - down - in slow-motion.

All eyes turned to Elizabeth.

"Never mind, Mr Count," she said gently. The Valium was good that day. "It happens, it's fine, don't worry... would you like to try one?"

Vlad's baited breath turned to bait his father. "Of _course _I would, Mrs Branaugh," the Count replied, the very beginnings of _that _grin sneaking over those lip-covered fangs. A crack not unlike thunder shook the room as he tried his very first party popper.

Vampire, after all.

The Count stared around at the gathering, pastel confetti slithering from his hair, and he beamed. Vlad groaned quietly.

He just _knew _- he should have known that small and deadly party favours would be a big hit.

"Well done, Dad," Ingrid said brightly. "Happy New Year!"

FINIS


End file.
